Inherently Inappropriate
by Phinoa
Summary: Draco's new relationship forces him to make friends out of former foes. But does it have to be like this? Really? And could someone teach Longbottom how to talk? / / Rated M for language and recreational drug use. EWE. One-Shot. Complete.


**A/N: I swear, I'm entirely innocent in the creation of this silly and cliché-ridden story, as I merely acted upon a subtle request. I quote: "I want a ridiculous and hilarious one-shot with Draco trying pot for the first time. That's all. Thanks." – You're welcome, love.**

 **Beta-thanks go out to none other than the brilliant MotherofBulls.**

* * *

 _ **Inherently Inappropriate:  
**_ _Forging Friendships is Lit_

'Are you sure this is a good idea?'

'Course I'm sure.'

'But this is your wedding.'

Potter leaned over, one eyebrow raised suggestively.

'So? This will just make it better, besides …'

The newly-wed turned around, searching the crowd. Luckily, the bride wasn't hard to miss. Potter whistled with his fingers and shouted, 'Oi, wife, come over here real quick!'

Ginny looked at him indignantly for a moment until she apparently decided to not give a shit, walking towards them yet obviously struggling with the dress; as far as Draco knew, gowns weren't the youngest Weasley's – pardon, _Potter's_ – cup of tea.

'What's the shake, beloved husband?' she asked – the way she had her fists stemmed into her sides sufficiently undermined the beauty of all that lace and silk.

'Malfoy doesn't trust my judgement.'

'Well, wouldn't that be cleverest thing he's ever done,' said Ginny, slumping down next to Potter. They were sharing a bench some metres away from the tent which housed the dancefloor, where Hermione was currently doing the twist with Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan. Draco couldn't help but watch her for a moment. He wouldn't even be at this wedding (let alone have a far too casual chinwag with the Potters) if it weren't for her.

'Go spend some time with Harry,' Hermione had suggested after the ceremony. 'Who knows, this might be the night you finally become friends and start calling yourselves by your first names, like normal people.'

First names – how sentimental. And not only that, Draco felt entirely uneasy about the predicament his girlfriend had landed him in.

'Perhaps we should go somewhere more private,' said Potter, forcing Draco's attention away from the bushy-haired witch. Potter was right; even though they sat in the dark, doing it out here would be far too conspicuous. The wrongness of doing it in the first place was beyond debate.

'Fancy joining us?' the Man-Who-Fucking-Lived-Twice asked his bride.

Ginny gave a "why not"-shrug and stood, albeit not without stepping onto the hem of her skirt first, Potter and Draco simultaneously holding out their hands as to stop her from toppling over.

'Hey, no touchy!' she shrieked, and both men withdrew their hands at once. 'Not you,' she added, wiggling her eyebrows at Potter. 'You can be as handsy with me as much as you like.'

'Right …' drawled Draco, not in the least caring for the bride and groom eye-fucking each other. 'Where should we go then?'

 _Better get it over with_.

'Arthur's shed is pretty _dope_ for that, if you know what I'm saying.' Now it was Potter wiggling his eyebrows at him. What was up with these people and their stupid eyebrow-innuendo?

'Yeah, Dad actually added a few fans and filters for when … you know'– Ginny held up the back of her hand as if the piece of information she was about to impart were actually a secret –'for when he wants to _relax_. But don't tell my Mum.'

And so they walked towards said shed, Draco almost tripping over a garden gnome on the way and hence kicking it with his foot, an action which would have most certainly earned him a disapproving snort on his girlfriend's behalf, but he couldn't care less in that moment.

All his mother's incessant preaching about how Muggle drugs were a one-way ticket to becoming a savage was about to be trampled on, as Potter fumbled with the latch. As soon as he pulled the door open, earthy smelling fumes were billowing out of the wooden shack, making Draco cough.

'Hey, shut the door, will you?' a voice Draco didn't recognise urged from inside.

'Yeah, in or out, people?' said another, this one sounding annoyingly familiar.

'Weasley?' Draco muttered into the vapour. As soon as his eyesight adjusted itself to the clouded air, he could indeed make out Ron Weasley sitting on an upside down crate. The redhead grinned at him, saying 'Malfoy! What a … surprise. Never thought I'd be there when you lose your virginity – that's what you're all here for, right?'

With that, he took a pull on the pre-rolled cigarette perched between his fingers, languidly blowing out the thick smoke through his nostrils. Draco was too stunned to snap back, in addition to Potter rushing past him and taking his mind off Weasley's slur. Only then did Draco notice the other people in the dimly-lit and crammed room: Neville Longbottom (currently accepting the joint Weasley passed around) and a beefy bloke he'd never seen before.

'Alright, Big D.' Potter greeted the stranger with a complicated and most of all unnecessary looking handshake choreography. "Big D" – an eerily suitable nickname – then kissed the bride on each cheek.

'This is my cousin, Dudley,' introduced Potter. 'Dudley, this is Mal- er, Draco.'

They shook hands, though Draco honest-to-Merlin feared the buff man might break his bones.

'You have a cousin?' he addressed Potter as soon as they were all seated in a circle.

'Yeah, so? You have peacocks in your garden, but you don't see me asking weird questions about it.'

'You have peacocks?' asked Dudley, dragging at the joint Longbottom had just handed him, taking his time to blow smoke rings. 'That's brill, bruv.'

'Er … I guess?' was all he managed, still struggling to cope with the sickly sweet and heavy scent of the fumes surrounding them.

'Hey, Harry, guess what?' drawled Weasley. Now _that_ was a ridiculous question if ever there was one. It wasn't even rhetoric, seeing as the redhead actually waited for Potter to speak.

'What?'

'Dudley snogged one of my cousins – who was it again?'– he looked quizzically at the man in question –'and don't say the ginger one.'

'Hey, I didn't even see her hair colour – it was dark, alright?' He passed on to Ginny, who took a drag as if she'd never done anything else in her life. Between her and him sat only Potter, and Draco began to feel twitchy. Meanwhile, Dudley tried hard to remember. 'I think her name was … Anne … or Beth?'

'You mean Kate?' Ginny suggested casually.

'Right! Kate! That was her name.'

'Mate, you weren't even _remotely_ close,' guffawed Weasley.

'How did you know, Ginny?' asked Ha- no, Potter. Potter asked that. Draco was _not_ becoming as soppy as the rest of them. Ginny was an exception. Both "Weasley" and "Potter" were already taken, and he was not going to give her a daft, feminised diminutive of her brother's nickname.

The woman in question shrugged nonchalantly, relishing another puff.

'One of my many talents,' she finally said, stubbing out some of the excess ash on a nearby jar before bringing the smokeage back up to her lips.

'C'mon Ginny, no hogging,' said Potter, voice layered with impatience.

'I'm the bloody bride, I can do whatever the fuck I want.' The "bloody bride" sealed her cheeky decree by taking an excruciatingly long drag and blowing the smoke into her husband's face before finally handing the considerably shorter cigarette over to said man. Maybe Draco wouldn't have to do it after all …

His hopes were crushed when Potter said, 'Someone roll a new one please.'

Longbottom, who Draco noticed hadn't said a single word so far, nodded and reached into his pockets, setting about a task with which he seemed all too familiar.

'There's no escaping it, Malfoy,' smirked Weasley, who'd apparently noticed Draco's disappointment upon Longbottom's stocking up the supply.

 _Play it cool_ , Draco told himself. _If Longbottom can do it, it can't be a big deal_.

Speaking of whom …

'What's up with him anyway?' Draco cocked his head to where Longbottom was currently twisting the cap of a small, cylindrical device.

'What, Neville?' Weasley jerked his thumb to his left. 'Neville is the worst of us all,' he added with a broad grin.

'Neville grows the best shit,' said Dudley, seemingly awestruck. 'And he understands his craft.'

They all watched Longbottom work in silence, and as the moment of truth drew nearer, Draco began to seriously contemplate his life choices. Then again, what did his mother know about weed? Not as much as Longbottom, by the looks of it. One time couldn't hurt, could it? And besides, Hermione practically forced him to do it. Yes, she was the one to blame for this mess, clearly.

'There you go,' said Weasley, handing him the fat, freshly rolled cigarette; Longbottom was already going about making another one.

'It's a beauty,' breathed Dudley reverently. 'One hell of a purey for your first time, mate.'

'Right …' Draco sceptically eyed the smokeage in his hands.

'Here, let me.' Ginny drew her wand ( _Where in Salazar's name did she keep it?_ ) and tried to lean over Potter, though the many layers of fabric significantly impeded her flexibility. 'Bollocks … what on earth made me wear this monstrosity of a dress again?'

'Mum?'

'Fleur?'

'Your Great-Aunt Muriel?'

'Yeah, yeah … I can't wait to get out of this thing!'

'Too right.' Potter flashed her a devilish smirk – again, could these people stop with their sodding innuendo already?

'Since my sister appears to be occupied …' Weasley brandished his wand and used it to light the tip of the joint. 'Go on, take a drag.'

Draco swallowed. He gingerly held the cigarette between his thumb and index finger, settling it between his lips and being awkwardly aware of everyone (except Longbottom, of course) watching him. That bloke really couldn't be bothered.

The first thought that went through Draco's head was that it tasted not as awful as he'd expected. Though he didn't get far, seeing as he shortly broke into a coughing fit. Potter slapped him on the back (as if that were any real help) while everyone's laughter rang in his ears.

'You'll get used to it eventually,' chuckled the groom, 'just keep going.'

And so he did. The second time, Draco inhaled more carefully, more slowly, exhaling in the same pace.

'Good on you, bruv,' applauded Dudley, who was already smoking again – Longbottom seriously knew his shit. Passing along the joint seemed to be the common way to do it, so Draco offered his to Weasley.

'Haha, oh no, that one's yours.' The best man made a shooing motion at Draco. Was it wise to keep smoking?

 _Oh, what the hell_.

Another drag, and another. Draco was indeed getting used to it. So used.

'He likes it,' said Dudley in a hushed voice, and Draco saw Longbottom nod knowingly. 'Ron, set the mood, yeah?'

Draco ignored them; he leaned back against the workbench behind him and kept puffing. Why had he been nervous again? This was the most satisfying thing he'd ever done – well, the second most satisfying thing, after his most recent experience with a certain witch; to get him grounded for the many people he now had to be friends with.

Friends … yeah … why not? They were actually really chill.

A slow beat suddenly started to play. Draco saw that Ron was fidgeting with a radio … where did he get that from? And who the hell was this Johnny?

 _Just be good, Johnny_ …

'Oi, Draco, do this,' said Harry, delicately wiping the tip of the second joint against the jar Ginny had used prior. Draco mirrored his motion and went back to smoking. Merlin …

… calm. He felt so calm.

Next to him, Harry blew smoke rings into the air. Yeah … good idea. He should give it try, too. Though all that came out of his mouth were separate, shapeless plumes.

'Salazar's cock,' he mumbled, upon which everyone burst into laughter again.

'Blimey, I didn't know the ferret would be so into it,' chortled Ron.

'Wha'?' drawled Draco, slowly turning to his left.

'Here, watch Neville.'

Neville accepted the joint from Harry, inhaling deeply. So very deeply. Just how big were his lungs? He then moved his mouth as if smooching an invisible lover, yet it weren't just rings he produced, but a … was that bloody ship? A bark, with masts and all? No … Draco rubbed his eyes. He must've been hallucinating.

'How're you doing that?'

Ginny snorted with laughter, gesturing at the wand Neville was pointing at himself.

'Wicked …' Draco nodded and pursed his lips appreciatively.

Neville simply shrugged and took another drag, and Draco followed suit, nodding his head to the strange music playing now and not at all paying attention to what he was doing.

 _It's the motherfuckin'_ _D-oh-double-G_ …

A stinging pain suddenly caused him to tear up. 'Fuuuck, my eyes …'

'Haha, be careful with that roach, mate,' said Dudley.

Draco noticed that his own joint was almost entirely used up. Too bad … but there was still some of it left. He pulled at it again, but once more, smoke got into his eyes.

'Ugh … bollocks.'

'Well, you either have skill, or you don't,' chuckled Ron.

'Could you … could you please stop insulting me'– Draco thought _very_ hard –'Weaselbee?'

Ron only snorted into his palm. 'Sure thing, mate, if you ask so nicely.'

Mate. Okay. That was fine. Food would also be fine.

'I'm starving,' announced Draco.

'Ohhh, he's getting the munchies, guys,' gloated Ginny. 'And to be honest, I could do with a bite to eat, too.'

'We still haven't cut the cake,' said Harry. 'C'mon.'

He snagged what was left of Draco's joint and put it out, standing and helping his bride up.

'Chop-chop, Draco, the cake is waiting,' she urged, and Draco hauled himself up.

Too quickly.

'Whoops.' – Why was everyone spinning? And laughing at him, again?

'Deep breaths,' cooed Ginny. 'You're good.'

He was. He truly was. Draco followed the others outside, carefully placing each step. Once they reached the brightly lit tent, he blinked slowly a few times in a row.

'Stay here,' said Ron, nudging him towards the bench where this entire, inherently inappropriate endeavour had begun. He sat there for a while, until Hermione eventually approached him, Levitating a plate in front of her.

'You're so pretty,' he said, and Hermione suppressed a smirk.

'And you're unbelievable.' She sat down beside him, offering him the cake, which Draco noshed down without further ado. Merlin, it was so good.

'What?' he asked, upon realising that Hermione was breaking into a fit of giggles.

'Nothing, it's just … I take it you got along then?'

Draco shovelled the last bite of cake into his mouth, shrugging. 'I s'pose.'

'My, that's a big step for you,' said Hermione, kissing his cheek and whispering into his ear, 'I believe that warrants a reward.'

Yeah … a small step for unprecedented friendships this was, but certainly a big step for Draco Malfoy. And boy could he do with that reward.


End file.
